"Then mix me a very strong whisky-and-soda, Mullett," said George Finch. "Whatever happens, I must be at my best to-night."
4
To George, sunk in a golden reverie, there entered some few minutes later, jarring him back to life, a pair of three-pound dumb-bells, which shot abruptly out of the unknown and came trundling across the roof at him with a repulsive, clumping sound that would have disconcerted Romeo. They were followed by J. Hamilton Beamish on all fours. Hamilton Beamish, who believed in the healthy body as well as the sound mind, always did half an hour's open-air work with the bells of an evening: and, not for the first time, he had tripped over the top stair.
He recovered his balance, his dumb-bells and his spectacles in three labour-saving movements: and with the aid of the last-named was enabled to perceive George.
"Oh, there you are!" said Hamilton Beamish.
"Yes," said George, "and...."
"What's all this I hear from Mullett?" asked Hamilton Beamish.
"What," inquired George simultaneously, "is all this I hear from Mullett?"
"Mullett says you're fooling about after some girl up-town."
"Mullett says you knew he was an ex-convict when you recommended him to me."